by Linsey Hall
She glared at him. “Fine. I hate the Salem Coven. I joined when I was young. Two years ago, I fell in love. He ran afoul of the coven. A month later, he was dead. I could never prove anything because they kept it quiet, but I know it was my coven mates. I know it. I can read auras. It’s one of my gifts. I read guilt in theirs. When you came and wanted to steal the book, I thought why not? Neither of you have evil auras, and I wanted vengeance.”
“You aren’t worried about what we’ll do with the book?”
“No.”
Her expression was a bit strange, but before Malcolm could ask why, Sofia spoke. “What does the coven know about me? Why were they so interested?”
“Ah.” Inara’s gaze dropped, as if she didn’t know how to phrase her next comment. “Well, you see, your position is fairly well known amongst the most powerful covens.”
“What do you mean?”
“The High Witches have a really sweet deal worked out with you and your line of Bruxas. You bring the tributes or they destroy your village. Did you ever wonder how that came about?”
“Not often, no. It’s always been part of my life. And my mother’s and grandmother’s before me.”
“Well, it’s an unusual situation. Most Mythean groups don’t do things like that—at least not on earth and not anymore. Going to another group of Mytheans—or in your case, a village—and threatening war and destruction is frowned upon. Like, really frowned upon. Organizations like the university in Edinburgh or the Grand Council of Witches or the Weres’ Consortium usually lay the smack-down on that kind of large-scale potential warfare. If it were allowed, there’s no way we could stay secret from mortals. Not if everyone were off fighting big old battles.”
“I know,” Sofia said. “But I just assumed my situation was older—established before the rule of law.”
“It’s not—not really. Witches are one of the oldest groups of Mytheans. Mortals have believed in witchcraft for millennia, after all. We’ve had our rules in place for that long. A situation like yours is forbidden. Except in certain circumstances.”
“Circumstances?”
“You’re really powerful for Bruxa. Your whole matrilineal line is enormously powerful. Mythologically speaking, you shouldn’t be that strong. Bruxas are moderately strong witches, but nothing like you or your ancestors.”
“Our strength has something do to with this problem, doesn’t it?”
“Yeah. Your ancestors made a deal with the High Witches thousands of years ago. In exchange for extra magical ability, their descendants and the village of Bruxa’s Eye would be forced into the situation you currently find yourself in.”
The breath whooshed out of Sofia’s lungs. Her color was ashen. “What?”
“Yeah. Your ancestors basically betrayed you before you were born. For the High Witches, it’s pretty much the best deal ever. That’s why my coven knew about your history. When we were reading your mind and realized who you were, it was easy to put two and two together.”
“How can she get out of this?” Malcolm demanded.
“It doesn’t matter,” Sofia said, her voice trembling. “It’s my responsibility. I have to do it.”
“No, you don’t.” Rage boiled in Malcolm’s chest.
“She does,” Inara said. “I don’t exactly know the nature of it, but she’s supposed to die if she abandons her post. She’s tied to it somehow. At least, that’s the rumor.”
Malcolm scrubbed a hand over his face. This was bloody awful news.
“I wouldn’t abandon my post. Or my village,” Sofia said. “And it’s okay. We got the book.”
Relief loosened the knot in Malcolm’s chest. He reached into his pocket and withdrew the coin, then laid it on the table. With a wave of his hand, he transformed it back into its original shape. The tome sat, heavy and bound in leather. Power radiated from it.
“Holy shit—that’s impressive,” Esha breathed.
“It’s our ticket out of this,” Sofia said.
It burst into flames.
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
Sofia jumped back. “What the hell?”
Flames devoured the book. Within seconds, it turned to ash.
Her heart began to pound and chills ran over her body. She lunged over the desk and grabbed Inara by the collar. “What the hell happened?”
“I don’t know,” Inara choked. She shook Sofia’s arm.
Shaking, Sofia let go and sat back.
Malcolm looked ready to commit murder. “Explain,” he growled.
“I really have no idea what happened.”
“That Grimoire is clearly enchanted,” Malcolm said. “Why? So it couldn’t leave the coven’s possession?”
“Makes sense,” Inara said. “But I’d really never heard of that before. No one ever talked about what would happen if it left, but that’s because everyone assumed it wouldn’t be stolen.”
Sofia’s heart sank.
“It makes sense,” Aurora said. “It’s an uncommon spell, but the Salem Coven is capable of uncommon magic.”
Sofia felt like the ground had fallen out from beneath her feet. “They’re going to destroy my home.” Her voice sounded dead, even to her ears. “There are no third chances.”
She was so screwed. Like, an all-time level of screwed. She’d failed. She’d really failed. “We need to evacuate the village. Get everyone out before they come. How many days do we have left?”
“Three.”
She pinched the bridge of her nose. “Damn it. Convincing everyone is going to be nearly impossible. They’ll want to fight.”
“Can’t they?” Warren asked.
“Sure,” Sofia said. “But we can’t win. The High Witches are too strong. They destroyed the population of an entire afterworld to build their home.” The memory of the desolate afterworld made her shiver. “The stories my mother told…” As a teenager, all she’d wanted to do was fight. To break free of these chains. “We can’t win against them. Not if they could kill everyone in a whole afterworld. They destroyed souls. How is our village supposed to stand up to that? And my ancestor apparently put us in this position.” Tears pricked her eyes. Damn it. She’d always thought that her line had volunteered to protect the village. That was how the story was told. But to learn that her own family had sold her up the river?
“The village is fated to be destroyed, is what you mean?” Aurora asked.
“Basically. It wouldn’t be a normal fight. We don’t stand a chance,” she said.
“Then we evacuate,” Malcolm said, his voice clipped. “Once everyone is convinced, it’ll take no time for them to leave. Many can aetherwalk and those who can’t shall go with the other. The village shall be clear in minutes. And we have three days.”
Sofia wanted to sink under the table and curl up in a ball.
Instead, she placed her palm on Kitty’s back for a bit of strength, then stood. “I’m going to go home. Talk to the leaders of the village factions, convince them to leave.” She looked at everyone. “Thanks for your help. Really.”
They nodded.
“I can come help at your village if you need me,” Inara said. “I mean, I don’t really have any responsibilities now that I’ve ditched my coven.”
“Thanks,” Sofia said. “Yeah. That’d be good.” She spun and left the room, walking blindly toward the hall.
She’d barely made it out the door before Malcolm caught up with her. He pulled her into his arms. She shuddered as his warmth closed around her.
“We can mend this,” he said against her hair.
“Really? Because it seems hopeless.”
“Yes. I’ll do anything to fix this.” His voice grew rough. “I swear, Sofia, I had no idea this would happen when I kept your dagger.”
Fates, how could he have? He was selfish, but not that selfish. She knew she should be angry with him, and she had a feeling that would come, but right now, she was so overwhelmed by what was coming at her that she didn’t have time for anger.
She sucked in a shuddering breath. Instead, she would focus on what she could do to fix this.
The first thing would be to take what strength and comfort she could from Malcolm. Shore up her defenses for what was to come. And there was a lot of strength that she could take. He’d shared that with her. He might have gotten her into this awful mess, but he had permanently diminished his own magical power to share it with her.
And she was going to use it. She’d have to.
Malcolm pinched the bridge of his nose and squeezed his eyes shut. This was not going as planned. He, Sofia, and Inara had come to her village after breakfast and arranged a meeting with the faction leaders. Though Sofia was the Protector and the strongest Mythean in town, from what he could see, each group of immortals in Bruxa’s Eye had a representative. There were no central leaders. Just Sofia and half a dozen Mytheans of a variety of species who made up the village council.
It had taken a few hours to round them all up, but they now sat in a small tavern at the edge of town. It was dimly lit, with a bar along one wall and tables and chairs along the other. The locals had cleared out and the council members now sat in chairs that had been pulled around to face the bar.
Sofia stood in front of it in her Crone form, explaining what had happened with the High Witches. She omitted any mention of Malcolm, for which he was grateful. He wouldn’t have any trouble taking on the assortment of Weres, fae, vampires, and other immortal beings, but if he was going to have a shot at convincing Sofia to spend the rest of her life with him, having her village hate him would be bad.
“So you see why we have to abandon the village?” Sofia said. Kitty sat on a barstool next to her and her hand hadn’t left the familiar’s back the entire time she’d been speaking.
A hulking Were rose to his feet. Nearly seven feet tall and built like a bull, his face was beat in like a prize fighter’s.
Malcolm started to step forward, but the Were bowed deeply, then spoke, his voice like gravel, “Honored One, you have carried this burden for centuries. It is time we picked up the mantle. We will fight these witches and break the curse upon our village forever.”
A small woman with sleek black hair stood, then bowed deep. When she spoke, her fangs flashed. “I agree with Hamish. You’ve carried this burden long enough. The vampires will join the Weres in fighting the High Witches. When they come here, we will be ready. If we kill them all, the curse will be broken. You’ll be free.”
“It’s not an option,” Sofia’s voice was sharp. “I appreciate the sentiment, but we cannot win this.”
A tall, slender woman with sparkling wings folded at her back stood and bowed deeply. “I am sorry, Honored One, but I do not agree. I believe that we can beat them if we are all united. Particularly if we can bring the fight to their door. I can call upon other fae who do not live in Bruxa’s Eye who owe me favors.”
“It’s not possible,” Sofia said. “I’m the only one who can access the High Witches’ afterworld. I can bring someone with me, but I’m only strong enough to bring one—maybe two—at a time. I couldn’t bring enough of us to wage a fair fight. And there is no fair fight. They got that afterworld by destroying all the souls there. They’re more powerful than all of us combined. We must depart. For all our lives.”
Disagreements rose in the air, each faction leader voicing their support for battle.
Sofia turned from them to face Malcolm, Inara, and Aleia, who stood at his side. “They won’t believe me,” she hissed. “They want to stay too badly. This is their home. We need to convince them.”
“How?” Aleia asked. “If they’re disagreeing with you—which I’ve never seen—there’s no one left to convince them. There’s no one higher than you.”
Sofia scrubbed a hand over her face and sighed. “What if we could contact my ancestors in the afterworld? They could confess to what they’ve done and if we could have all the previous Protectors speak to the wisdom of leaving, perhaps the leaders would listen.”
“But how?” Aleia asked. “Calling forth one ancestor is hard enough. You want to try for all of them? There are six!”
“I’m stronger now.” Her gaze connected with Malcolm’s. “With Malcolm’s help, and possibly Inara’s, we can call them forth.”
“It’s worth a try,” Aleia said.
Sofia turned back to the crowd. When her gaze fell upon them, they quieted. “Tomorrow at dawn, we’ll meet in the sacred circle. I’ll call my ancestors forth and they’ll speak to the wisdom of abandoning Bruxa’s Eye.” She paused. The pain in her eyes was so clear that it made his heart ache. “I don’t want to abandon Bruxa’s Eye either. It’s my home. But a battle that we cannot win and the inevitable slaughter that will follow is worse.”
The leaders shifted silently, then rose and bowed.
“Of course, Honored One,” the vampire murmured, her head bowed.
The rest echoed her sentiment.
“Good. Until dawn,” Sofia said.
The leaders filed out. Sofia collapsed against a barstool. “Fates, that sucked. And tomorrow is going to suck worse.”
“Why wait until dawn?” Malcolm asked.
“It’s easiest to contact an afterworld at dusk or dawn, when the barrier between night and day is weakest.” Sofia glanced toward the window. “And the sun has already set tonight.”
Malcolm waited while she made arrangements with Aleia and Inara to meet before dawn.
Sofia felt Malcolm’s gaze on her like a brand as she said goodbye to Inara and Aleia. Her own home didn’t have a second bedroom for Inara, who would be spending the night with Aleia in her two-bedroom apartment over the apothecary.
She turned to leave, her gaze flashing over Malcolm.
Would he follow?
He caught up to her at the door and pushed it open. No one was on the street, so she transformed back to her normal self, sighing in relief as she re-entered her old skin.
Of course he would follow. He seemed determined to stay in her life these days. To the point that his actions had put her whole village at risk. Anger seethed in her chest as she stomped down the boardwalk toward her home.
“I’ll do everything in my power to see to it that your friends are safe,” Malcolm said.
“It’s too late now. You’ve done your damage.”
He grabbed her arm and gently pulled her to a stop, then swung her toward him. “I know that. I apologize.” His voice was graver than she’d ever heard it. “I would never have kept the dagger had I realized these would be the consequences.”
She believed him. He was sorry. And he wouldn’t have done it. She was pissed he’d done it, but also mature enough that she could forgive him.
But it was so hard to forgive him for becoming a warlock in the first place.
She looked up at him, struck by how handsome he was in the moonlight. His hair was ink black and his golden eyes were so gorgeous. Her gaze strayed to his mouth. Why did he have to be so godsdamned beautiful? And so good in bed?
Or on a desk, rather.
The memory made her shiver.
She wanted him and it pissed her off. It was stupid.
“You should go,” she said as she turned and walked down the boardwalk.
“Not bloody likely. I’m staying to help.”
The words made her feel a little better, which only pissed her off more. She stomped faster. “Why?”
“Because I want to. I want to make this right. And I want you. I’ve wanted you for centuries.”
His words made her heart race and her skin prickle. She tried to ignore it as she stopped at her door and pushed it open. She stepped into the small foyer and turned, intending to block him.
“Go, Malcolm. If you want to help so badly, meet us at the temple tomorrow.” She started to shut the door in his face, her heart and body aching to let him in.
He stepped forward and clasped her waist, lifting her and kicking the door closed behind him. His strength made desire flash through her, followed quickly by anger.
“You bastard!” she tried to shove him, but he didn’t budge. He loomed over her, making her heart race. “All you do is butt into my life. You forced your way in by taking the dagger and now you’re forcing your way into my home. I’m sick of it!”
He grasped her wrists in his big hands and forced them down, then pulled her to him. “I can’t help myself. I want you too bloody badly.”
The way he growled the words sent a shiver through her. He was so strong, so beautiful. His scent and strength were intoxicating, making her dizzy with want.
She hated that she wanted him, hated that he was here.
Most of all, she hated that she could very well die as a result of this mess.
And it wasn’t really his fault. It was her ancestors’ fault. She’d been set up for this for hundreds of years.
And now she might die without knowing what it would be like to be with Malcolm? It wasn’t fucking fair. Her life wasn’t fair. She’d given it all up to help save her village and now she wouldn’t even accomplish that.
And this man who drew her like a moth to flame was here for the taking. He wanted her. She wanted him. So what if she got burned, if she were going to die anyway?
Anger and desire pulsed through her, fueling her. She grabbed his shirt and swung him toward the little living room.
“You want me?” she asked as she pushed him backward toward the couch.
He let her, desire darkening his gaze. “Forever.”
The words just pissed her off more. “Impossible. But this isn’t.” She shoved him onto the couch, then straddled him.
His hands came up to grip her hips.
“Yes,” he breathed as she crushed her mouth to his.
His lips were delicious beneath her own, lush and firm. She sank her hands into his hair and slipped her tongue into his mouth. She wanted to taste more of him. All of him.
She was so mad and needy that she kissed him roughly, angrily. All her rage over her circumstances came out in her kiss, in her motions. She ground herself against him, moaning into his mouth when she felt his hard cock between her thighs.
